Disappointed
by redrachxo
Summary: At the darkest, most desperate, moment of the battle between Svartálfaheimr and Asgard, Loki reveals his true colours to Thor. Speculative!fic focused on possible events in Thor 2: The Dark World. One-shot. Please R&R. xo


_**First attempt at venturing into the 'Thor' fandom. Be gentle with me ; ) **_

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"What would you sacrifice for what you believe?"

The noise of war faded away into the background as Malekith's voice, strangely flat and metallic, travelled across the dust filled air. Somehow, the Dark Elf's lack of emotion made the entire situation so much worse. Thor was familiar with red-hot rage and blustering threats and at the very least such a display would have indicated that the life Malekith held in his hands was of some worth to him. Of some value however twisted his intentions may be. To witness the clinical detachment with which Malekith treated the mortal woman that he loved struck fear into Thor's heart like nothing he had ever felt. There was no warrior's fire or pride in the Dark Elf before him, just the chilling calmness of a gambler who knew that they had been dealt the winning hand.

Pinned against the darkening sky, held in place by invisible forces that Thor knew he couldn't hope to comprehend, Jane was gazing at him with a mixture of defiance and terror. Her soft brown eyes were unnaturally dark, as if Malekith's particular brand of sinister magic was already poisoning her body. And yet, she was pleading with him. Those beautiful eyes imploring him not to fall for Malekith's manipulations, not to give up the battle for what could only ever be an illusory bargain. As a mortal, she was always going to die; whether it was now in the bloodied fields of Svartálfaheimr by Malekith's hand or as an old woman on Midgard aged and content with her natural life force spent. '_Let me go_,' her eyes begged and yet despite all her nobility, all her compassion and selflessness there was still a glint of hope. A tiny spark of belief that he could somehow save her without condemning both his people and the Nine Realms.

Even as Thor's hand tightened around Mjölnir, as his mind raced through the various but all unsatisfactory outcomes to this confrontation, he knew that there was no way out of this. His lips parted as he struggled to find the words, as he tried to tear his desperate gaze from Jane's face, pale and sweaty with pain and fear to meet the cold, ice-filled eyes of his opponent. He wasn't sure what happened next, as an impossible mixture of light and dark exploded around them, as Jane's form disappeared into a cloud of ash and shrapnel and Malekith's roar of triumph echoed in the aftermath. He was only aware of a wetness streaming down his face, of his knees hitting the hardness of the ground beneath and of an echoing bellow filling the air, this time born of grief and despair.

A figure began to emerge from the falling ash, long slender horns curving gracefully into the air despite the hunched appearance of the immortal wearing them. "Must you be so overdramatic?" Loki's voice, melodious and low, broke through the numbness ensnaring Thor's senses.

Through his pain, Thor felt the safer, much more constructive sensation of fury rising deep within him, surging through his veins, acting as a stimulant. How very like Loki to turn up now when the battle was won, when he could gloat safely at Thor's loss without ever risking his own worthless skin.

Snarling, Thor reached once again for his hammer. He would finally show that treacherous snake of a brother what it meant to betray Asgard. He would break Loki as Malekith's actions had shattered his heart – unmercifully and without warning. But he found his hand stilling as Loki approached. His gaze latched disbelievingly onto the ragged creature in his brother's arms. Her delicate features were stained grey with smoke, the long dark hair singed and she was unconscious but breathing. Unceremoniously, Loki dumped Jane into Thor's waiting arms, his own face strained and white as if the act of carrying the weight of the mortal woman was too much for him. Thor barely took in the almost purple shadows of exhaustion beneath the other prince's eyes before he bent his head to press a tender kiss against Jane's forehead. He could have wept with relief at the warmth of her skin, of how her fragile ribcage moved up and down with each precious breath that she took.

"You saved her." Thor's voice crackled with the weight of too much emotion as he finally looked up at his brother, the immortal who he had condemned as traitor when he mysteriously disappeared the dawn before battle. "How? _Why_?" After all, Loki had threatened to harm Thor's mortal himself. His brother's hatred for him ran unfathomably deep and he had been presented with the perfect opportunity to cause unbearable anguish to the one person he blamed for all his woes.

Loki flashed him an all too knowing smirk. "I would hate to become predictable," he drawled.

The ash cloud was thickening as it advanced towards them. Watching the way Loki turned to look at it, noting the slight creasing of a frown beneath his brother's eyebrows, Thor realised that matters were far from resolved. As if reading his mind, Loki held up a dismissive hand, his pale fingers indicating for Thor to remain still. After a few seconds of intently studying the scene, during which the ash seemed to swell with impossible blackness, Loki swung around sharply. His large eyes glittered like emeralds in the increasingly dim light as he glared at his brother. "Oh you had to go and _negotiate_."

There was no mistaking the utter disdain with which the God of Mischief viewed his brother's attempts at peace keeping and despite the seriousness of the situation Thor couldn't help stiffening with indignation. He opened his mouth to protest but found that Sif got there first.

"What the Hel?" The female warrior's voice was hoarse with exhaustion but that didn't stop her from stepping in between the two brothers and raising her weapon against the younger.

Thor realised with a pang of regret that Sif had jumped to exactly the same conclusion as he had only a minute or so before. The almost automatic assumption that Loki was to blame, that he had to be the antagonist when it came to chaos and destruction.

Loki glanced contemptuously at the gleaming blade which Sif was lifting to his throat. "It requires a sacrifice," he spoke slowly, his voice laden with a meaning that Thor couldn't ignore. "Was that not the bargain you made?" Even now with the darkness threatening to consume them, Loki's words managed to have a taunting edge that could cut as deep as any dagger.

Remembering his words with Malekith earlier, Thor felt his throat close up with sheer horror as he realised what he had done. How the Dark Elf had managed so easily to twist his code of honour against him. He had to be careful not to crush the woman still resting in his arms, not to harm her even as his fingers tightened around her small frame, an unspoken 'no' to the prospect of her losing her again. No-one else but Loki would have noticed that almost unconscious reflex. As Thor's azure gaze clashed with the malicious green of his brother's, his stomach lurched painfully at the conflicting emotions swirling around in those emerald depths.

Loki's grin was almost maniacal as he took a step forward into the eddying darkness. "Your hand shall not be the one to slay me after all." There was an odd note of triumph in his voice. He took another step and the flakes of ash, no - dark matter, began to attach themselves to his form, the clouds beginning to surround him in violent swirls. Loki's final words before he was entirely engulfed by the blackness managed to be both full of spite and desperate longing. "I hope you are not too disappointed."

When the last of the ancient magic crackled away and the few lingering remnants of darkness began to fade under the pale beams of sunlight which were breaking through the clouds, only the twisted remains of what had once been Malekith were left as testament to Loki Odinson's heroism. As the noise of weapons falling and the Dark Elves' cries of surrender began to filter through the air, Thor bent his head and pressed his lips against the dusty hair of the mortal woman cradled against his chest. Then, for the first time in what felt like centuries, he allowed his heart to ache for his brother.

_**Any reviews or constructive feedback would be much appreciated. Thank you for reading. If anyone is interested, I am now posting a follow up fic 'A Bitter Aftertaste' which explores some of the aftermath to Loki's departure. xo**_


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